It sucks that I’m going home in less than two weeks. It sucks that I’m going across the atlantic for a year, because I might just actually like you. It’s pretty unlikely that you’d ever have feelings for me, and it’s clear that you’re hung up on her, but part of me kinda wishes I was hanging around, just so I’d at least have a chance to find out if there could be anything there. I guess that’s just the way these things go. Maybe part of me doesn’t want this past year to be a complete write-off in terms of my love life, so I’m trying to attach myself to you. Whatever it is, there’s not a lot I can do about it now. I’m not madly in love with you, and I’ll quite easily live without you. It just would have been nice to have the time to try, now that the notion’s struck. But hey, who knows what will happen? Whatever happens, I wish the best for you. Never has anyone so underappreciated, underrated and underestimated been more deserving of happiness. Take care, and I hope you’ll still be here when I come back, as a friend, if nothing else.